Roosters and Computers

Today i woke up to a rooster in my courtyard… announcing the day. Were this to be only a morning occurrence I would welcome it and consider its announcement… but this rooster crows every 20 minutes of every day. I therefore contemplated turning over and sleeping the morning away…until I realized that I had a computer class to teach at 8 a.m. I savored my cup of coffee and banana, stood to watch the activity below me at the hospital and soccer field, and made my way to the library. It’s the last day for the morning class, finishing up 4 weeks of class learning the basics of Microsoft Windows, Word, and Excel. They are finishing their end of term “projects” and I run into Richard and Emanuel on the way, asking them whether they have their poem or story written out to type. They anxiously pull it out of their pockets, proud of what they had authored. During class a couple of younger kids come in, wanting to play with the puzzles and trucks in the library… over the past month these classes are a gathering place for those enrolled and otherwise, playing, laughing, and making a mess of the books I try to neatly order every night. There are always a couple of kids who want to check books out, so they sign the log and as usual, bring them back two days later.
The computer classes are comprised of 24 students, children and adults alike, some professors and some kids vacationing here from Santa Cruz city. This week many of them are in the campo (countryside) planting potatoes and cultivating onions, so they’ll have to come after the course is over… of course now that I have started teaching, there are 24 more that would like to enroll. I never thought of teaching computer classes, and I have had my share of frustrating days when I cannot seem to articulate well or when the students don’t remember to they have to double click, sitting there waiting for something to miraculously open. But those moments fade away during days like today where they came in, sat down, and barely asked me one question as they typed their final projects. They inserted images of hearts, stars, flashy borders, and pictures of Pucará. And now, sitting at the computer and printing out their projects I see the effort put into these classes. The poems are about their pueblo, the surrounding sites and the views overlooking the valley; there are stories about love, about the rich and the poor.
I found this first teaching task rather daunting, never remembering myself how I was taught to use a computer. But slowly I stepped away and let them figure it out- if I figured it out some years ago, surely they don’t need me to hang over their shoulders. Parents come in during class and observe, making sure their child came to class and surely a little curious themselves as to what this art of computing is all about.
The other day Delfa came to me wanting me to type something for her. She is enrolled in the class, but since this was an important document she wanted to make sure it was done correctly… even though her Spanish is incomparable to mine. I agreed to do it and we met at the library. She wanted to pay me for the 15 minutes it took to type a paragraph, but I would have none of it- instead accepting payment in the form of some succulent plums she has growing in her backyard.
Rain is looming over the mountains and the breeze is picking up. I am just waiting for it to start pouring down, secretly praying it will hold out until the next class is over, as my laundry is still out on the line. The rain here is enchanting and miserable at the same time. After a couple dry days I look at thunder clouds and think to myself that I wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon curled up with a cup of tea and Cannery Row. But after 2 days of deluge- which turn the streets of Pucará (and then your house) into a mud pit- I begin to grow crazy with each continuing hour. Of course it does, and as long as you keep those sunny, hot days in mind (and a pile of literature handy), it passes. Like everything, it passes. And so, the computer classes come to an end. We learned how to use lists, bullets, and numeration the other day, and as the night class let out, I trudged up the street saying goodbye to Marbin and Hayler… Marbin turns around and says, “Nos vemos viñeta (bullet), chao numeración”, and then doubles over laughing. Secretly I hope that they remember where they first learned to use a computer, even if I am only used in reference as a bullet point on their long list of achievements.